Chapter Twenty-Six
Linden
“This isn’t your visitation night, and I was being kind to bring her over. I’m not waiting outside.”
Merrill practically sneers at me from the middle of the doorway. “Fine.”
I already regret coming here, but Avery overheard the phone call when they said they had a time-sensitive surprise for her, and I didn’t have the heart to let her down.
We walk through the grand entrance that greets me ominously every time I’m here, but tonight it feels even darker.
Or maybe it’s depression creeping in. I can’t tell.
I haven’t been myself since Turner told me they had plans to pursue custody, and unfortunately, with Jack and his secrets, I don’t feel like I have anyone to talk to about it. I certainly don’t discuss adult matters with my three-year-old.
When we walk into my den, my stomach sinks. Turner and Edmund are already in here waiting, and now I feel like I’m being ganged up on.
Merrill continues ignoring me as she goes to the center of the room and shows Avery a giant white box with an almost as giant pink bow.
“What is it?” Avery asks, wide-eyed.
“It’s for you. Open it up,” Turner says with the nastiest smirk on his face, aimed towards me.
Avery opens the lid flaps and squeals. “Mommy! A kitty!”
My jaw falls open. What in the world?
“It’s yours, Avery! It will have to stay here, of course,” Merrill adds, glancing my way haughtily. “But you can visit as much as you want. She can sleep in your room here.”
“This is low. Even for you,” I utter with gravel in my throat. They are literally baiting my daughter to sink their claws deeper.
“It’s just a cat, Linden,” Turner says, not bothering to hide his satisfaction.
“It’s not just the cat. You’ve gone out of your way to ruin my life.”
“Please, don’t be dramatic.”
“Dramatic? You threatened to take me to court! You have no grounds to take her from me,” I whisper-yell over Avery’s head.
“I’ve got plenty,” Turner threatens.
“Plenty of what? I do nothing but what you people tell me to. I don’t go anywhere; I hardly leave my house–” Something deep in my brain clicks. “Did you hire someone to watch me?”
To my core, I don’t want to believe that Jack works for these terrible people. He has secrets, but he’s a good man.
I’m not ready to believe that his soul is sinister like this family is.
Turner smirks with amusement.
“Well?” It doesn’t matter what he says anymore; I’m done arguing. Defending myself will get me nowhere. But I have to know the truth.
“You should know that I’m always watching you, Linden.”
No…
I look at Merrill and Edmund, but neither of them says anything. They let their son walk all over me like they always have. “How can you do this to me and still sleep at night?”
Nothing.
“I am a damn good mother, and you all know it. Come on, Avery. Let’s go.”
“No! My kitty!” She squeezes the white furry baby to her chest, and the cat lets her. Leaving me to be the one to break my daughter’s heart.
“The kitty needs to get used to its new home. It will probably be sad tonight because it was ripped away from its mother,” I say directly and clearly to the other adults in the room.
“She’ll be fine. She won’t even remember her mother exists in a few days,” Merrill challenges, and I scoff deep in my chest.
“You’re sick.”
“Actually, I think her mother died in a freak accident. Isn’t that a shame?” Turner adds, and a wave of ice crashes into me.
“You wouldn’t…” I look at Merrill and Edmund, but they’re looking at Turner. Not denying what he said, but rather annoyed that he said it out loud.
“Avery, we’re leaving,” I demand, reaching for her.
“No, I want my kitty.” She jumps away from me.
“She can stay in her room tonight,” Edmund adds idiotically.
“I wanna take kitty home,” Avery cries, clinging to the cat.
“Yeah, I think it is a good idea to stay here tonight, Avery,” Turner quips just to get under my skin, but it’s the wrong thing to say to a little girl who only sleeps with her mommy every night.
“No!” She cries and sprints out of the room with the cat clutched to her chest.
“Avery, wait!” I run after her, but she’s quick, and she seems to have a destination in mind already.
Her pink dress flows wildly behind her as she runs through the hallway and past the kitchen.
“We can just go home, sweetie. Don’t run!” I beg, nearly within arm’s reach, until she dips into the vacant playroom I discovered a few weeks ago.
I slow down and take a deep breath, because at least now she’s contained and I can handle this without the audience down the hall.
But when I step into the room, it’s empty.
“Avery?” Nothing. I run to the door on the far wall that’s slightly ajar, where the stairs are.
There’s no response, and as I open the door wide, the stairs are still cloaked in darkness. My hand skims the wall until I find an old-fashioned push light switch that fills the stairwell with warm yellow light.
The door at the top of the spiral staircase is still closed, but there is another door on the back wall that I hadn’t noticed until now.
It’s shorter but wider than a normal door, like an existing armoire that was framed into the wall. The thick wooden doors are split, with an open gap right down the middle.
“Baby, I’m sorry that the cat can’t come home with us. But you can see it when you come back. I promise,” I coax softly as I swing the doors open wider.
It’s empty.
Instead, I blink wildly at the open cutout in the back wall. It’s not a crude opening. It’s an entrance nearly the full width of the back of the armoire, covered by a thick metal door like you’d see on a wall safe.
A door that is big enough for an adult to crawl through, and hanging wide open above a set of stairs going down.
“Avery!” I yell, and don’t hesitate. I don’t know what’s down here, but I know my baby doesn’t belong down here. “Avery!”
I descend further down the wooden steps until the angle changes, and it opens into a wide stone corridor. Avery is all the way at the other end, staring in a direction that I can’t see from my place at the bottom of the steps.
“Avery, get over here!” I yell, and it falls on deaf ears. Her feet don’t move.
It isn’t until I’m closer to her that she finally looks at me. “They have boo-boos, Mommy?” She points in the direction she was looking, and when I turn the corner, the gasp I let out echoes off the stone walls.
Two rows of hospital beds, one lining each wall, and each one with a person in it, descend into the room. Medical machines and rhythmic beeping like you would hear in a hospital.
If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t believe that we’re still in the mansion.
These people are sick, or at least they look that way. There is hardly any movement to even indicate that they’re alive, only the rising and falling of chests, and the pulse and oxygen rates on the monitors.
Despite my body telling me to get out of here, I take a step further into the room.
“What’s wrong wiff them, Mommy?”
“They’re sleeping.” I hope that’s true.
We make it all the way to the other end, and I count 20 beds with a person in each one. Beside the last bed is a desk with computer screens monitoring each patient, and stacks of files.
None of this seems right, but in case it’s all above board, these patients deserve their privacy, so I don’t peek inside the folders.
“Come on, baby. We need to get out of here.”
“You shouldn’t be down here.” Merrill’s voice echoes down from the other side of the room.
I stare at her blankly because as much as I dislike her, I’ve never heard her sound so evil.
“I wasn’t expecting visitors tonight. I must’ve forgotten to re-engage the lock,” Edmund says suddenly from behind her, out of breath as if he was trying to keep up.
Her head turns eerily slow towards him. “You idiot,” she seethes. “Get them out of here.”
The man who always seemed a bit contrary towards his wife’s actions follows her command like a puppet, stepping down the walkway towards us, sporting a sympathetic frown.
“What is this?” I ask desperately.
He shakes his head slowly, making it clear he doesn’t plan to tell me. I am so sick of the secrecy. I wrap my hand around Avery’s arm and take a step back. “What is all of this, Edmund?” I ask again, but my voice breaks.
“Don’t ask questions, Linden.” He smiles softly towards Avery, but even she nudges her body tighter against mine.
“Help,” a woman’s voice croaks suddenly. She’s young, probably barely older than I am. Her head is tilted in my direction, but her eyes appear to be shut as she groans. No… Sewn shut. “Help us!”
My eyes bounce erratically around the room as more people in these beds start to stir, and one glaring thing sticks out to me that I didn’t register before… They’re restrained to the beds with crude metal cuffs around their wrists and ankles.
These people are not here of their own free will.
“Help! Help us!” The chorus of voices gets louder and more panic-filled as they wake.
Edmund reaches for my arm, and I yank it out of his grasp. “Don’t touch me.”
“If you don’t come with me, she’ll hurt you,” he utters pathetically, grabbing my arm firmly this time, but the look on his face tells me more than he’s saying. She’s going to hurt me either way.
Then they’ll have Avery just how they want.
“How do we get out?” I plead, smooshing Avery’s face against my belly so she doesn’t look at the horror around her.
“You can’t…” As he says the words, his eyes slip past me. And when he tugs me towards my monster-in-law, I have a chance to glance in the direction he looked.
Another metal door.
My arm comes free with one good yank because Edmund isn’t expecting my fight, and it latches onto the first heavy object I see. An oxygen tank resting at the foot of a bed.
One solid swing clunks Edmund in the head, and he stumbles back multiple steps before falling to the ground. I don’t hesitate.
I make a break for the other door, pulling Avery as fast as she’ll follow. The latch at the top drops easily, but the door itself is heavy, and the handle doesn’t have very much to grip, like it’s not meant to be opened from this side.
I shove my way through anyway, sparing a final glance at Merrill, who is staring angrily back at me. “Don’t let them leave. The little girl is mine!” She yells rapidly into her phone as the door slams shut between us.
The heavy door seals with a series of tumbling clicks.
“Avery, we have to run, baby.” We start down the long spooky hallway, and luckily there is only one direction to go. Up.
The slight incline of the dirty stone floor leads to a set of stairs and a double hatch door. I have to let go of Avery’s hand to shove until my shoulders burn to get the doors up and open.
We step out onto the lawn between some of the rose bushes, under the big full moon, and I have to get my bearings to decide which way to go. If I can get to my car, we can get out of here.
I don’t make a single step before a flashlight blinds my face, and for one naive second, I hope it’s my masked stranger here to guide me to safety.
The light lowers, and a security guard that I’m not familiar with appears in front of me.
“We’re leaving,” I sputter.
A slow smile crawls over his face as he shakes his head. “No, I don’t think you are.”